Impact
by Nuclear Lunchbox
Summary: Your personal reality is most certainly real. The only problem is that everybody's reality is just as real as yours. The only thing that can come from instrumentality is the horror of being trapped in your own mind...
1. Case 6

It was December 24th. Static and unchanging, the sky was just as gray as it had been three days before. The clouds still hovered over the city, their bellies swollen with moisture and ice crystals. The thunder still rumbled, shaking the sake bottles on the shelf.

There were six of them, a motley bunch. The cellist sat on the ground, with his back against the wall. He was wearing a white shirt, tucked into a pair of black slacks. The scientist was slumped in a wooden chair, sleeping. Her green sweater was too long in the arms, lending her a strangely youthful appearance. The two female military officers were asleep on the couch, their hair colors clashing as they nestled against the other's shoulder. Both were clad in the colors of their workplace, khaki with orange shoulder emblems. The blue-haired psychologist sat next to the two, her legs drawn up in front of her. She was dressed entirely in white: white lab jacket, white formal shirt, white pencil skirt, and white stockings. The artist was spread-eagled on the floor, wearing a leather jacket, tight black T-shirt, and jeans. All were close friends, having known one another for thirteen years. The group had only planned to be there for a few days, but days had turned into several, and those several days into a week. The weather had only gotten worse and worse, going from cold to cold and rainy, and then to cold, rain, and hailstones.

The cellist pushed himself up to standing, walking the short distance to the window. He brushed aside the curtain, staring out into the deluge. Nothing had changed. The gray sky moved the gray clouds, dumping their gray rain and their gray hail onto the gray everything else. It was a world of gray, where everything was the same.

A second reflection appeared in the glass. The artist had come over to join him. His jet-black hair was tousled, giving most people the impression that he had just woken up. Of course, that was usually the case. The two stood side by side, staring out into the downpour.

"I think my flight's cancelled," murmured the artist.

The cellist sighed. "If anyone tried to take off in this weather, it would be a nightmare." His breath fogged the windowpane. "Do your parents know you won't be back today?"

"Not yet. I still need to call them. They'll need to stay with Sakura for another day."

"Your kid?"

"She'll be sad that her parents won't be home for Christmas, but there's not much I can do."

The cellist released the curtain, hoping it would fall shut; instead, the stiffness of the fabric and the bearing rods held it open. "Want me to grab you a beer?"

"Sure, why not," said the artist. He walked over to the wall, sliding down to rest with his arm over his eyes. "I think I need it."

The cellist walked over to the mini-fridge, pulling it open. As far as he could remember, it had been stocked with nothing but ice, snacks, and more beer than one could drink. He pulled two cans from the rack, popping the tab on one of them. He took a sip, moving the drink around the inside of his mouth before swallowing.

He padded back to the small group, tossing the beverage to the artist. He snapped his tab and took a deep draught. "America makes a fine cup of coffee, but you can't beat Japanese beer," he said, nodding in approval.

There were joint yawns from the sofa. The officers had both woken up, and were rubbing the sleep from their eyes. One stood up and stretched, her red hair falling down her back. The second simply yawned again, brushing her purple bangs out of her face.

The redhead looked at the shoulder of her jacket, delicately giving it a sniff. "You know that this is going to smell like you, right?" she said, looking at the woman on the couch.

The other officer gave an impish grin. "It smells better than that fabric softener you use, Asuka."

Asuka sighed, pressing her palm to her forehead. "It's not that bad, you know." She looked out the window, surveying the skyline beyond. "Besides, it keeps me warm enough for that weather."

Misato reached around the psychologist for the blanket, childishly wiggling her fingers as it gradually proved to be just out of reach. "Rei, could you pass me that blanket?" she whined, plastering her best cute-enough-to-make-one-want-to-tear-out-someone's-spleen smile over her face.

The psychologist expressionlessly picked up the blanked and dropped it on Misato, before returning to her earlier position. Misato proceeded to pop her head out of one side, giggling like a schoolgirl.

The cellist looked over. "Misato, you're the most cheerful thing in this room. Perhaps even outside," he added, looking out the window. He finished his drink, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, I know," said Misato. Then, brightening again, she said, "Throw me a beer, will you?"

The cellist grimaced, turning on his heel back to the fridge. Extracting a third can, he walked back to the sofa, holding the can above her head. "Promise not to chug?" he asked, smirking.

Misato flashed her smile again. "Promise." The cellist lowered the can to her hands. There was a soft crinkle of aluminum as she took the can from him, followed by the sound of somebody chugging a beverage as fast as possible. He sighed, turning away towards the black-haired artist, who was finishing his beer. "Pass, Toji," he called. The artist grunted an acknowledgement before crumpling his beer can and tossing it in the cellist's direction. The can slapped into his hand. He turned and threw the empty container onto one of the mounting trash piles on the table, followed by his own.

Asuka had collapsed back onto the couch, her jacket drawn around her. Misato was covered in a blanket, her hands wrapped around the empty beer can and two red spots on her cheeks. Rei was as impassive as ever. The artist was still against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. The scientist was groggily coming to, gradually sitting upright. She got up from the chair, stretching her arms. She yawned, loudly.

Asuka looked over with interest. "Sleep well?" she inquired.

The scientist looked over, still sleepy-eyed. "I slept in a chair. What do you think?" She brushed a few strands of short, brown hair from her face, inclining her face towards the cellist. "Shinji, could you grab me a coffee? I'm wiped."

Shinji nodded, turning towards one of the cabinets. He pulled out a can, tipped the liquid contents into a mug, and placed it in the apartment's microwave.

Toji pushed himself up from the wall again, moving over to the scientist. "You don't look so good," he murmured, draping his arms over her shoulders. "Tired?"

"I'm fine, you know that." She turned her head to the left, enough for a brief peck on the cheek from her husband. "Are we going back today?"

He sighed. "I'm afraid not. Weather's still bad." The artist nodded towards the window. "I'm going to call my parents, see it they'll stay with Sakura for another day."

She sighed. "Weather wasn't this foul when we were kids. It was summer all year round."

The artist grinned. "Pool weather all year, right?"

"Boys looking at you in a swimsuit weather all year, more like," retorted Asuka.

"Braggart," chuckled the scientist.

"Oh, come on," scoffed Asuka. "By the time you were seventeen you were getting as many boys as I was."

The scientist laughed, nestling her head into the artist's shoulder. "Jealous?"

"You wish," chuckled Asuka.

The microwave dinged. And everything stopped. Perfection, achieved in one moment of serenity.


	2. Case 5

It was daytime. At least, that was what it felt like. Even with the window blinds closed, the fluorescent lights threw the room into such sharp relief that it nearly hurt the eyes. It didn't help that everything was white. The floor tiling, the countertops, even the chairs near the door were the same pale shade as the counters and the sheets. The monitors were that annoying shade of medical, sterile white.

There were only two sounds in the room, the constant bip-bip-bip of the monitors and the whoosh of the air tank. Every once in a while, the frequency of the beeping would increase, only to drop seconds later. The air tank was constant, never wavering. It was a comforting sound.

One of the chairs by the door was occupied. There was a man sitting in it, his dark hair, pants, and jacket clashing with the whiteness of the room. His arms hung by his sides, his head nodding slightly as he slept.

The woman was asleep as well. She looked incredibly youthful, a healthy rose color suffusing her cheeks. Her red hair fanned out around her shoulders, lending her an airy, weightless feel. She would have been the most alive thing in the room, if not for the fact that she was lying in the bed in the middle of it, or for the tears cutting tracks down her face.

The door slid open. The man in the chair jerked at the sound, his eyelids opening to reveal the bloodshot whites and pupils within. A woman walked in, a purple wave of color falling down her military-issue jacket. Her hair and red sweater were disheveled, as if she had just rolled out of bed. The man sank back into his chair as the newcomer gently slid the door halfway shut. She turned back around.

"I had some time off of work today. How is she…" The woman trailed off.

The man in the chair let out a shaky breath. "Not good. It's only been a few days, but it feels like it's been a few weeks." A tear leaked out of his eye. "She's not doing well."

Footsteps echoed through the crack in the door. They grew louder and louder, until finally a young man in his early twenties burst into the room, chest heaving. "Christ. My flight was late. I flew in as soon as I got your…" He took a moment, gasping for breath from his mad dash down the corridor. "Just… How are you two holding up?"

The man in the chair gave a wan smile, shrugging. His jacket rustled with the motion. "Not great. Thanks for flying in, though. Everyone that can get here helps." He got up, holding onto the chair to steady his legs. "This isn't easy to go through."

The woman in the jacket moved over to the bed, lifting the clipboard from the foot. She leafed through the pages, before sighing and placing it back. "This can't be easy for her."

The sound of the door sliding closed permeated the room. The three of them in the room turned, to see a slender, blue-haired woman moving the door the last few centimeters. She turned to the group, her crimson eyes moist. She attempted to speak, swallowing twice but only forcing out a few syllables.

The younger man moved over, pulling the blue-haired girl into a hug. This seemed to be the gateway she needed. The moment she entered the embrace, she began gushing tears. She was silent, despite the racking motions each silent sob tore through her body.

The sobs faded after a minute. The two of them unlocked, the male moving to the other man's side, the woman to the side of the bed.

"Thanks for coming." The man raised his head, the single track from his tear etched in his face. "I know that this isn't necessarily convenient, but…" He trailed off again.

The woman in the jacket smiled wanly. "We've known you and Asuka for years. Anything for our old friends."

"How long has she been like this?" The group turned to look at the blue-haired woman, now leaning against a counter with one leg crossed over the other. She sniffed, eyes still watery.

"Two days." The response was muffled. The man in the jacket had his head buried in his hands. "She was admitted to psyche today, though."

"How far in was she?" queried the military woman.

"Twelve weeks." The man raised his head, his expression haunted. "This wasn't supposed to happen after twelve weeks."

There was a shocked silence following his statement. Eyes widened. Jaws became slack, arms hanging uselessly by their owner's sides.

The younger man took a step back. "Christ," he whispered, drawing it out into two syllables. "Kee-rist." His legs steadied. "Isn't that an indicator of-"

"Don't." The man in the chair raised his finger in warning.

"This is important, it could be-"

The chair clattered to the floor. "Shinji, if you say one more word, _one more word_, I'm going to put you in one of these rooms yourself," snarled the man. His hands were balled into fists by his side.

The woman in the jacket briskly walked in between Shinji and the older man, distancing the two. "Calm down, okay?" she said, making her tone as soothing as possible. It was a mistake. He rounded on her, his expression black with fury.

"You do NOT tell me to calm down!" the man roared. "I have my wife lying in the middle of this room, and I don't know if she's going to be _alive_ tomorrow!" His chest heaved for breath, and spittle flew from his lips. "You have no idea what I'm going through, and you have no god-damned right to tell me to calm down! That is my _wife_! MY _WIFE_!" The tears came then, as he sank down to his knees, sobbing, the same phrase issuing from his lips, "…my wife…my wife…"

The room was perfectly still, except for the man sobbing in the middle of it. The purple-haired woman, the one who had stepped in front of Shinji, was staring off into the distance. Her eyes were wide, shell-shocked. It was Shinji who stepped forward, placing his hand on her shoulder. It was only when he touched her that he could feel the waves coursing through her body with every dry, soundless sob.

"Misato." Nobody turned to look at the speaker, the girl with the blue hair. "He's right. None of us know the pain that he's going through." Her eyes, though earlier wet, were now hard. "You can't speak for him. Nobody can."

"Rei," Shinji murmured. "You're not helpin-." There was a flash. The girl went silent, her arms dropping.

The man on the ground was still sobbing, one convulsive movement after the other. Mucus dripped from his nose, tears leaked from his eyes. Both he wiped away with his jacket, not caring for the material.

He looked up, still teary-eyed, before it happened again. There, not as bright, but a warp in the weft of the room. Staggering, he got to his feet. The first thing he noticed was the absence of sound. The machines weren't beeping anymore.

He looked around, the tears abating now as he took in his surroundings. Misato, Rei, and Shinji were all frozen in a tableau. There were no sounds coming from them. The subtle rise and fall as they breathed was absent. He stared in shock at the lifeless figures standing in the room, before the world went dark completely.

There was nothing, just a dark, blank nothing devoid of sound or light. He floated there, like a mote of dust in a shaft of sunlight.

Then the sound came. It was like nothing in the world, a loud, sharp screech that tore into his ears. He bore the pain, not out of strength but because he could not move his arms or legs. A sound of rending metal followed. There was a loud screech, then a bone shaking crash as _something_ tore into the darkness around him. There was the sound of a girl crying, followed by another, rumbling crash.

As the rumbling faded away, he became aware of the horrifying sensation that occurs when one has forgotten not to breath underwater. Fluid rushed into his nose, down to his core. He couldn't make a move to cough it up, a silent scream exploding inside of him as the liquid burned out his throat as it traveled to his very center.

His nose was burning; his throat felt like it was going to explode. That was before the pain came, a great, roaring crunch that sank into his bones and rent him in two. A second, silent scream bubbled up inside him-

And exploded out into the world, echoing over and over again in the confines of the hospital room.

The three alert members of the room turned to look at him in shock. The scream petered off, ending in a reedy wail, followed by heavy breathing. The man wasn't on his knees anymore, but now on all fours as the tears started again.

The stares of the three didn't help the man to recover from his ordeal. It had all been so sudden, but it had shaken him to the heart. He attempted again to get to his feet again, this time steadying himself to fix his gaze on the room. He stared into the room, his expression one of horror. The world was still there, but everything felt somehow wrong. Something wasn't the same. He felt it in his bones, something that he couldn't place but that he _knew _to be there.

A mind. Somebody else, whispering in his head.

The machine beeped.


	3. Case 4

The woman was sitting behind a desk, in a room the size of a modest cathedral. It was strangely designed, a strangely impersonal feeling pervading it. The room felt like a stopping point that somebody had tried to make into a destination. There was noting there to signify any sort of a personal attachment. The windows went from the floor to the ceiling, steel girders splitting the whole thing into an enormous glass checkerboard. Something wasn't right about the windows; though they should have provided a stunning view of whatever was outside them, nothing more than steady illumination came through them. It was as if they were in a cavernous space, so big and empty that there truly wasn't anything outside to see.

The desk was the only piece of furniture in the room, save for an enormous clock at the other end. The grandfather clock was a Victorian affair, ornately carved walnut with a wood-bordered glass front. Every two seconds, the pendulum would swing from one side to the other, making a muffled clunk. Compared with the rest of the room, it was too detailed. Everything else was very modern: solid red floor, marble; a flat, rectangular ceiling.

The woman wore a red coat with orange shoulder lapels. Underneath this was a black undershirt. As far as she cared to remember, she had always worn them. The clothes were her identity; to take them off would feel like losing herself.

Spread in front of her was a wide assortment of papers, all covered with arcane diagrams. At the top of each document was a red stamp emblazoned with the words 'Eyes Only- No Copies'. The woman never deviated from orders. The documents would be destroyed at the end of the meeting.

Three other people were in the room with her. All were standing in front of her desk, as if awaiting orders. They were clad in identical uniforms, tan jackets with matching pants. The only difference between them was the color of their hair, ranging from red to blue to black. Their faces were vaguely androgynous, all the same shape and ivory color. Had they been wearing wigs, they could have swapped them and still looked the same. Their shoulders bore the same markings as the woman in front of them.

The woman was having a hard time remembering why they were all gathered, much less so in such a strange place. She felt that she had known, mere seconds ago. Part of her accepted it, but there was an insistent nagging voice in the back of her head that stated otherwise. She shook her head, her purple hair rippling at the motion, for the moment driving out the insisting portion of her consciousness. She cleared her throat, passing a sheaf of paper to each individual in front of her.

"These documents are for you, and your eyes only." It was a good start. Official sounding, but without giving a clue that she herself was still trying to figure out what she was doing. "They will be destroyed upon conclusion of this gathering."

The three of them nodded, accepting the documents. Each one flicked through the pages, giving the packets a speed-read before examining them in more detail.

The clock wasn't ticking anymore.

That was the first thing that the woman noticed. The heavy clunking of the pendulum, the only constant, had ceased. Even stranger, the pendulum had stopped moving at the apex of its swing. It was as if it were frozen.

The woman would have worried more about this, except for the fact that the three people were no longer sitting in front of her. She wasn't even sitting behind her own desk. Everything was fading out, going to black. She still sat there with her hands crossed in front of her on an invisible counter. For a moment, there was absolute silence.

The moment was shattered when a bright flash of light assailed her eyes, just as a shriek tore into her ears. The darkness had broken up in one explosive moment. The light and sound were piercing enough that she clapped her hands over her ears, squinting her eyes shut. The sound was like nothing that she had ever heard before-

Except she had.

And then she wasn't in a void anymore, but in a chair. A grey chair in a room with white walls and a white floor and a white ceiling and a white door and white everything, except her pajamas. Those were a pale blue, but the color was so close to the white that it didn't matter anyway.

Her knees were curled up to her chin. Yes, she remembered; she had been in that chair for two years, watching people look at her through the flap in the door and murmur words like 'mental contamination' and 'fit for release' and 'danger to self'. She knew full well why she was in the room, and she knew as well why she hadn't spoken in any of that time. What she had seen had put demons in her soul, and to open her mouth and speak or cry would be to let those demons escape. Nothing would be more painful.

And then she remembered where she was- no, _who_ she was. She wasn't in a containment cell from 12 years ago. She wasn't recovering from having pieces of her father splattered all over her when he was ripped to shreds by a wave of torn metal and shrapnel.

She wasn't some dull military officer sitting behind a desk giving orders to her underlings. She had a place where she worked, a _real_ place. There were real people that she worked with. She didn't belong inside this massive cathedral with the ticking clock.

She was the Major- something. Something went there, after her title. There was a name that went there, but she couldn't remember what it was. It was a crucial part of her identity, but it was still drifting around somewhere.

There was a muffled clunk.

She blinked, looking at the three people in front of her, at the false room with the ticking clock. At some point, it had restarted and returned life and color to the world. The expressions of the three were puzzled, unlike their collected faces from mere moments earlier. "Is there a problem?" the Major queried.

The redhead passed the paper she was reading across the desk. "Well, there's nothing here… well, no. The issue is, we can't read what this says."

"Show me, Asuka." The Major took the paper, glancing down at the writing there. Then she looked closer. The redhead was right. The paper was covered in scribbles. It wasn't language at all.

She looked up at the other two. "Shinji. Rei. Show me your papers." The two looked at one another before sliding over their documents. She glanced from one to the other, her eyes whipping over the documents faster and faster. There had been something there, she was sure of it.

There was something intruding on the edge of her consciousness. She brushed it off, resuming the study of the documents, but the sensation came back. It was impossible to concentrate. She placed the packets on the desk in front of her, massaging her temples with her fingers. All the while, the three people in front of her continued to gaze at the papers in front of them, faces emptied of emotion.

Something glinted at her from across the room.

Abruptly, the Major was standing. The eyes of the three continued to track her movement as she stepped forward, away from her desk, crossing the room towards the clock at the far side. Their eyes left her as soon as she passed their field of vision. It struck the woman how oddly sized the room was, and the feeling behind her head intensified with the thought.

She was in front of the clock now, gazing at the pendulum going clunk-clunk-clunk behind the glass. She reached to one side of the wooden paneling, fingers wrapping around the frame. She pulled, and the panel opened with seemingly no give at all. She reached in with a hand, stopping the pendulum's back-and-forth movement for a moment. With her other hand, she reached in, grabbed onto the hard rectangular object inside, and pulled it out. She stared at the object in disbelief.

It was a camera. It was on, recording. The noise of the clock had earlier covered the whine that the tape made as it spun. As she stared at it, the red indicative blinking light went dark. The whine faded away as she continued to stare at the dead piece of tech. _Why was there a camera in the clock?_

Although she would have cared to devote a great deal more time to the answer to that particular question, the woman quickly became aware of another problem. The clock, normally so diligent at keeping the time, had begun to tick faster. And another problem; the hands on the clock face were moving backwards. As the ticking sped up, another unpleasant fact revealed itself. The room was shaking. She felt it as a small rumble underneath her shoes, gradually getting stronger and deeper as it moved up her legs. Small bits of plaster began to fall from the ceiling as the shaking intensified.

She whipped around focusing her gaze on the three people she had left at the desk. They hadn't moved. They hadn't even reacted to the movement. However, the blue-haired one, Rei, was shaking her head as if trying to clear it of some unpleasant sensation. The outline of her body was growing fuzzy along the edges. Shaking herself from her reverie, the Major began walking across the room towards her.

There was a loud, resounding high-pitched noise. The woman stopped, looking up in horror. One of the girders on the massive windows had snapped, tumbling down to the floor. The noise was horrific, a grinding, tearing screech as it ripped from the metal surrounding it. Where the girder had been, there was no gap in the glass of the window; it was still filled with that ceaseless illumination. The girder tumbled to the floor.

It hit with a terrible screeching sound, tearing its way across three feet of marble before coming to a stop. It left long, white trails in the ground. She looked at it in shock. A second, louder noise echoed behind her. Her head whipped around, to see a second beam falling right over the clock. It hit- and tore through as the clock crumbled into white dust. A white cloud billowed out as bits and pieces of chalky whiteness flew through the air.

The ticking noise was growing louder now, even though the clock had been crushed; it was now a great pounding that tore into the woman's ears. She clapped her hands onto the sides of her head, including the hand that was holding the camera. That too was crumbling, leaving the Major holding onto a broken handle that slowly dissolved into the same white powder that the clock had, seconds ago.

Rei was no longer shaking her head, looking around in bleary-eyed confusion at the dust shaking down from the roof and the massive girders on the floor. Her outline had stabilized, but her clothing had changed; she no longer wore the tan uniform, but a typical schoolgirl's uniform. As the Major watched incredulously, a third girder tumbled down to the floor with a reverberating clang where it struck. This one bounced once before coming to rest, leaving a second screech in the air to mingle with the pounding of the clock.

There was a loud cracking noise. Slowly, both Rei and the Major looked up at the ceiling, right above where Rei was standing. A massive piece, holding on by just a few inches of material, finally snapped its way free. It began the long fall to the ground, speeding up. Galvanized into action, the woman put all her energy into a sprint, tackling the girl out of the way an instant before the ceiling chunk hit the marble. The two hit the ground with a loud smacking sound.

Asuka and Shinji hadn't moved. As the two of them watched in shock, the same white dust began to fall from the fingertips of the two. A white, pasty liquid oozed out of the holes in their hands, spreading up the arms in a chain reaction. The two of them watched in revulsion as the centers of their bodies collapsed inward in a white, gluey mess. Slowly, the bodies collapsed in on themselves. Rei hid her face in the Major's jacket.

Great chunks of the ceiling were falling now, massive divots left in its smooth surface. The room shook like an earthquake. The ticking of the clock was still there, all around them, all consuming. The woman clutched Rei tightly, attempting to impart to her whatever comfort she could.

The floor collapsed.

The Major didn't have time to worry about it, sudden as it was. Cracks in the marble radiated out from the two at an unbelievable speed, and they simply dropped into the black chasm. The Major's arms were still around Rei. The room visibly receded above them, as great chunks of the marble floor fell above the two.

The ersatz pendulum gave a final clunk as the two receded into the darkness.


End file.
